Scribble Orca’s Reviews > The Restored Finnegans Wake > Status Update
Scribble Orca
is on page 66 of 523
The house of Atreox is fallen indeedust (Ilyam, Ilyum! Maeromor Mournomates!), averging on blight like the mundinbanks of Fennyana, but deeds bounds going arise again. Life, he himself said once (his biografiend, in fact, kills him verysoon, if yet not, after), is a wake, livit or krikit, and on the bunk of our breadwinning lies the cropse of our seedfather—a phrase which the establisher of the world by law might...
— Apr 19, 2013 06:49AM
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Scribble Orca
is on page 72 of 523
Eiskaffier said (Louigi’s, you know that man’s, brillant savourain): Mon foie, you wish to ave some homelette, yes, lady? Good, mein leber! Your hegg he must break himself. See, I crack, so, he sit in the poele, umbedimbt! A perspirer (over sixty) who was keeping up his tennises panted he kne ho har twa to clect infamatios but a diffpair flannels climb wall and trespassing on doorbell.
— May 11, 2013 08:10AM
Scribble Orca
is on page 71 of 523
With schreis and grida, deprofound souspirs. Steady, sullivans! Mannequins, pause! Longtong’s breach is fallen down but Graunya’s spreed’s abroad. Ahdostay, feedailyones, and feel the Flucher’s bawls! For the total of your flout is not fit to fan his fettle, O! Have a ring and sing wohl! Chin, chin! Chin, chin! And of chorus all chimed din width the eatmost boviality. Swiping rums and beaunes and sherries and ciders
— Apr 28, 2013 05:48AM
Scribble Orca
is on page 69 of 523
Not olderwise Inn the days of the Bygning would our Traveller, remote, unfriended, from van Demon’s Land, some lazy skald or maundering pote, lift wearywilly his slowcut snobsic eyes to the semisigns of his zooteac and, lengthily lingering along flaskneck, cracketcup, downtrodden brogue, turfsod, wildbroom, cabbageblad, stockfisch, longingly learn that there at the Angel were herberged for him poteen and tea and...
— Apr 22, 2013 02:32AM
Scribble Orca
is on page 61 of 523
Again, if Father Dan Browne, tea and toaster to that quaintestest of yarnspinners, is Padre Don Bruno, treu and troster to the queen of Iar-Spain, was the reverend, the sodality director, that eupeptic viceflayer, a barefaced carmelite, to whose palpitating pulpit (which of us but remembers the rarevalent and hornerable Fratomistor Nawlanmore and Brawne?) sinning society sirens (see the—Roman Catholic—presspassim)
— Apr 16, 2013 03:55AM
Scribble Orca
is on page 56 of 523
The wararrow went round, so it did (a nation wants a gaze), and the ballad, in the felibrine trancoped metre affectioned by Taiocebo in his Casudas de Poulichinello Artahut, stumpstampaded on to a slip of blancovide and headed by an excessively rough and red woodcut, privately printed at the rimepress of Delville, soon fluttered its secret on white highway and brown byway to the rose of the winds and the blew
— Apr 05, 2013 04:07PM
Scribble Orca
is on page 48 of 523
Gaping Gill, swift to mate errthors, stern to checkself, diagnosing through his eustacetube that it was to make with a markedly postpuberal hyperpituitary type of Heidelbergmannleich cavern ethics, lufted his slopingforward, bad Sweatagore good murrough and dublnotch on to it as he was greedly obliged, and like a sensible ham, with infinite tact in the delicate situation seen the touchy nature of its perilous theme,
— Mar 27, 2013 06:12AM
Scribble Orca
is on page 44 of 523
A baser meaning has been read into these characters the literal sense of which decency can safely scarcely hint. It has been blurtingly bruited by certain wisecrackers (the stinks of Mohorat are in the nightplots of the morning) that he suffered from a vile disease. Athma, unmanner them! To such a suggestion the one self respecting answer is to affirm that there are certain statements which ought not to be...
— Mar 21, 2013 08:24AM
Scribble Orca
is on page 42 of 523
abhout that time stambuling haround Dumbaling in leaky sneakers with his tarrk record who has remained topantically anonymos but (let us hue him Abdullah Gamellaxarksky) was, is stated, posted at Mallon’s at the instance of watch warriors of the vigilance committee and years afterwards, cries one even greater, Ibid, a commender of the frightful, seemingly, unto such as were sulhan sated, tropped head (pfiat! pfiat)..
— Mar 04, 2013 11:18PM
Scribble Orca
is on page 42 of 523
An imposing everybody he always indeed looked, constantly the same as and equal to himself and magnificently well worthy of any and all such universalisation, every time he continually surveyed, amid vociferatings from in front of Accept these few nutties! and Take off that white hat!, relieved with Stop his Grog and Put It in the Log and Loots in his (bassvoco) Boots"
— Mar 03, 2013 06:42AM
Scribble Orca
is on page 38 of 523
"Opportunity fair with the China floods and we hear these rosy rumours. Ding Tams he noise about all same Harry chap. She’s seeking her way, a chickle a chuckle, in and out of their serial story, Les Loves of Selskar et Pervenche, freely adopted to The Novvergin’s Viv. There’ll be bluebells blowing in salty sepulchres the night she signs her final tear. Zee End. But that’s a world of ways away."
fodda spenke
— Mar 02, 2013 06:19AM
fodda spenke
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Apr 19, 2013 06:53AM
"...pretinately write across the chestfront of all manorwombanborn. The scene, refreshed, reroused, was never to be forgotten, the hen and crusader ever intermutuomergent, for later in the century one of that puisne band of factferreters (then an excivil (out of the custom huts) (retired), (hurt), (under the sixtyfives act) in a dressy black modern style and wewere shiny tan burlingtons, tam, homd and dicky, quopriquos and peajagd) rehearsed it, pippa pointing, with a dignified bow (copied!) to a namecousin of the late archdeacon F. X. Preserved Coppinger (a hot fellow in his night, may the mouther of guard have mastic on him!) in a pullwoman of our first transhibernian overground with one still sadder circumstance which is a dirkanddurk heartskewerer if ever to bring bounceye brimmers from marbled eyes.
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